The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  If I refuse to wed Demetrius.

  THESEUS

  Either to die the death, or to abjure

  For ever the society of men.

  Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires.

  Know of your youth, examine well your blood,

  Whether, if you yield not to your father’s choice,

  You can endure the livery of a nun,

  For aye to be in shady cloister mewed,

  To live a barren sister all your life,

  Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.

  Thrice blessed they that master so their blood

  To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;

  But earthlier happy is the rose distilled

  Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn,

  Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.

  HERMIA

  So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,

  Ere I will yield my virgin patent up

  Unto his lordship whose unwishèd yoke

  My soul consents not to give sovereignty.

  THESEUS

  Take time to pause, and by the next new moon—

  The sealing day betwixt my love and me

  For everlasting bond of fetlowship—

  Upon that day either prepare to die

  For disobedience to your father’s will,

  Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would,

  Or on Diana’s altar to protest

  For aye austerity and single life.

  DEMETRIUS

  Relent, sweet Hermia; and, Lysander, yield

  Thy crazed title to my certain right.

  LYSANDER

  You have her father’s love, Demetrius;

  Let me have Hermia’s. Do you marry him.

  EGEUS

  Scornful Lysander! True, he hath my love;

  And what is mine my love shall render him,

  And she is mine, and all my right of her

  I do estate unto Demetrius.

  LYSANDER ⌈to Theseus⌉

  I am, my lord, as well derived as he,

  As well possessed. My love is more than his,

  My fortunes every way as fairly ranked,

  If not with vantage, as Demetrius;

  And—which is more than all these boasts can be—

  I am beloved of beauteous Hermia.

  Why should not I then prosecute my right?

  Demetrius—I’ll avouch it to his head-

  Made love to Nedar’s daughter, Helena,

  And won her soul, and she, sweet lady, dotes,

  Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry

  Upon this spotted and inconstant man.

  THESEUS

  I must confess that I have heard so much,

  And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof;

  But, being over-full of self affairs,

  My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come;

  And come, Egeus. You shall go with me.

  I have some private schooling for you both.

  For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself

  To fit your fancies to your father’s will,

  Or else the law of Athens yields you up—

  Which by no means we may extenuate—

  To death or to a vow of single life.

  Come, my Hippolyta; what cheer, my love?—

  Demetrius and Egeus, go along.

  I must employ you in some business

  Against our nuptial, and confer with you

  Of something nearly that concerns yourselves.

  EGEUS

  With duty and desire we follow you.

  Exeunt all but Lysander and Hermia

  LYSANDER

  How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pate ?

  How chance the roses there do fade so fast?

  HERMIA

  Belike for want of rain, which I could well

  Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.

  LYSANDER

  Ay me, for aught that I could ever read,

  Could ever hear by tale or history,

  The course of true love never did run smooth,

  But either it was different in btood—

  HERMIA

  O cross!—too high to be enthralled to low.

  LYSANDER

  Or else misgrafted in respect of years—

  HERMIA

  O spite!—too old to be engaged to young.

  LYSANDER

  Or merit stood upon the choice of friends—

  HERMIA

  O hell!—to choose love by another’s eyes.

  LYSANDER

  Or if there were a sympathy in choice,

  War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,

  Making it momentany as a sound,

  Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,

  Brief as the lightning in the collied night,

  That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,

  And, ere a man hath power to say ‘Behold!’

  The jaws of darkness do devour it up.

  So quick bright things come to confusion.

  HERMIA

  If then true lovers have been ever crossed,

  It stands as an edict in destiny.

  Then let us teach our trial patience,

  Because it is a customary cross,

  As due to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs,

  Wishes, and tears, poor fancy’s followers.

  LYSANDER

  A good persuasion. Therefore hear me, Hermia.

  I have a widow aunt, a dowager

  Of great revenue, and she hath no child,

  And she respects me as her only son.

  From Athens is her house remote seven leagues.

  There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee,

  And to that place the sharp Athenian law

  Cannot pursue us. If thou lov’st me then,

  Steal forth thy father’s house tomorrow night,

  And in the wood, a league without the town,

  Where I did meet thee once with Helena

  To do observance to a morn of May,

  There will I stay for thee.

  HERMIA My good Lysander,

  I swear to thee by Cupid’s strongest bow,

  By his best arrow with the golden head,

  By the simplicity of Venus’ doves,

  By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves,

  And by that fire which burned the Carthage queen

  When the false Trojan under sail was seen;

  By all the vows that ever men have broke—

  In number more than ever women spoke—

  In that same place thou hast appointed me

  Tomorrow truly will I meet with thee.

  LYSANDER

  Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.

  Enter Helena

  HERMIA

  God speed, fair Helena. Whither away?

  HELENA

  Call you me fair? That ’fair’ again unsay.

  Demetrius loves your fair—O happy fair!

  Your eyes are lodestars, and your tongue’s sweet air

  More tuneable than lark to shepherd’s ear

  When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.

  Sickness is catching. O, were favour so!

  Your words I catch, fair Hermia; ere I go,

  My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,

  My tongue should catch your tongue’s sweet melody.

  Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,

  The rest I’d give to be to you translated.

  O, teach me how you look, and with what art

  You sway the motion of Demetrius’ heart.

  HERMIA

  I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.

  HELENA

  O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!

  HERMIA

  I give him curses, yet he gives me love.

  HELENA

  O that my prayers could such affection move
!

  HERMIA

  The more I hate, the more he follows me.

  HELENA

  The more I love, the more he hateth me.

  HERMIA

  His folly, Helen, is no fault of mine.

  HELENA

  None but your beauty; would that fault were mine!

  HERMIA

  Take comfort. He no more shall see my face.

  Lysander and myself will fly this place.

  Before the time I did Lysander see

  Seemed Athens as a paradise to me.

  O then, what graces in my love do dwell,

  That he hath turned a heaven unto a hell?

  LYSANDER

  Helen, to you our minds we will unfold.

  Tomorrow night, when Phoebe doth behold

  Her silver visage in the wat’ry glass,

  Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass—

  A time that lovers’ sleights doth still conceal—

  Through Athens’ gates have we devised to steal.

  HERMIA

  And in the wood where often you and I

  Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie,

  Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,

  There my Lysander and myself shall meet,

  And thence from Athens turn away our eyes

  To seek new friends and stranger companies.

  Farewell, sweet playfellow. Pray thou for us,

  And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius.—

  Keep word, Lysander. We must starve our sight

  From lovers’ food till morrow deep midnight.

  LYSANDER

  I will, my Hermia. Exit Hermia

  Helena, adieu.

  As you on him, Demetrius dote on you. Exit

  HELENA

  How happy some o’er other some can be!

  Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.

  But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so.

  He will not know what all but he do know.

  And as he errs, doting on Hermia’s eyes,

  So I, admiring of his qualities.

  Things base and vile, holding no quantity,

  Love can transpose to form and dignity.

  Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

  And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

  Nor hath love’s mind of any judgement taste;

  Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.

  And therefore is love said to be a child

  Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.

  As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,

  So the boy Love is perjured everywhere.

  For ere Demetrius looked on Hermia’s eyne

  He hailed down oaths that he was only mine,

  And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,

  So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.

  I will go tell him of fair Hermia’s flight.

  Then to the wood will he tomorrow night

  Pursue her, and for this intelligence

  If I have thanks it is a dear expense.

  But herein mean I to enrich my pain,

  To have his sight thither and back again. Exit

  1.2 Enter Quince the carpenter, and Snug the joiner, and Bottom the weaver, and Flute the bellows-mender, and Snout the tinker, and Starveling the tailor

  QUINCE Is all our company here?

  BOTTOM You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.

  QUINCE Here is the scroll of every man’s name which is thought fit through all Athens to play in our interlude before the Duke and the Duchess on his wedding day at night.

  BOTTOM First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point. 10

  QUINCE Marry, our play is The Most Lamentable Comedy and Most Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisbe.

  BOTTOM A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves.

  QUINCE Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver?

  BOTTOM Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.

  QUINCE You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.

  BOTTOM What is Pyramus? A lover or a tyrant?

  QUINCE A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love.

  BOTTOM That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes. I will move stones. I will condole, in some measure. To the rest.—Yet my chief humour is for a tyrant. I could play ’erc’les rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split.

  The raging rocks

  And shivering shocks

  Shall break the locks

  Of prison gates,

  And Phibus’ car

  Shall shine from far

  And make and mar

  The foolish Fates.

  This was lofty. Now name the rest of the players.—This is ’erc’les’ vein, a tyrant’s vein. A lover is more condoling.

  QUINCE Francis Flute, the bellows-mender?

  FLUTE Here, Peter Quince.

  QUINCE Flute, you must take Thisbe on you.

  FLUTE What is Thisbe? A wand’ring knight?

  QUINCE It is the lady that Pyramus must love.

  FLUTE Nay, faith, let not me play a woman. I have a beard coming.

  QUINCE That’s all one. You shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.

  BOTTOM An I may hide my face, let me play Thisbe too.

  I’ll speak in a monstrous little voice: ‘Thisne, Thisne!’—

  ‘Ah Pyramus, my lover dear, thy Thisbe dear and lady

  dear.’

  QUINCE No, no, you must play Pyramus; and Flute, you Thisbe.

  BOTTOM Well, proceed.

  QUINCE Robin Starveling, the tailor?

  STARVELING Here, Peter Quince.

  QUINCE Robin Starveling, you must play Thisbe’s mother.

  Tom Snout, the tinker?

  SNOUT Here, Peter Quince.

  QUINCE You, Pyramus’ father; myself, Thisbe’s father.

  Snug the joiner, you the lion’s part; and I hope here is a play fitted.

  SNUG Have you the lion’s part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me; for I am slow of study.

  QUINCE You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.

  BOTTOM Let me play the lion too. I will roar that I will do any man’s heart good to hear me. I will roar that I will make the Duke say ‘Let him roar again; let him roar again’.

  QUINCE An you should do it too terribly you would fright the Duchess and the ladies that they would shriek, and that were enough to hang us all.

  ALL THE REST That would hang us, every mother’s son.

  BOTTOM I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of their wits they would have no more discretion but to hang us, but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove. I will roar you an ’twere any nightingale.

  QUINCE You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man as one shall see in a summer’s day; a most lovely, gentlemanlike man. Therefore you must needs play Pyramus.

  BOTTOM Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in?

  QUINCE Why, what you will.

  BOTTOM I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.

  QUINCE Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare faced. But masters, here are your parts, and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you to con them by tomorrow night, and meet me in the palace wood a mile without the town by moonlight. There will we rehearse; for if we meet in the city we shall be dogged with company, and our devices known. In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties such as our play wants. I pray you fail me not.

  BOTTOM We will meet, and there we may rehe
arse most obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect. Adieu.

  QUINCE At the Duke’s oak we meet.

  BOTTOM Enough. Hold, or cut bowstrings. Exeunt

  2.1 Enter a Fairy at one door and Robin Goodfellow, a puck, at another

  ROBIN

  How now, spirit, whither wander you?

  FAIRY

  Over hill, over dale,

  Thorough bush, thorough brier,

  Over park, over pale,

  Thorough flood, thorough fire:

  I do wander everywhere

  Swifter than the moonës sphere,

  And I serve the Fairy Queen

  To dew her orbs upon the green.

  The cowslips tall her pensioners be.

  In their gold coats spots you see;

  Those be rubies, fairy favours;

  In those freckles live their savours.

  I must go seek some dewdrops here,

  And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.

  Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I’ll be gone.

  Our Queen and all her elves come here anon.

  ROBIN

  The King doth keep his revels here tonight.

  Take heed the Queen come not within his sight,

  For Oberon is passing fell and wroth 20

  Because that she, as her attendant, hath

  A lovely boy stol’n from an Indian king.

  She never had so sweet a changeling;

  And jealous Oberon would have the child

  Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild.

  But she perforce withholds the loved boy,

  Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy.

  And now they never meet in grove, or green,

  By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,

  But they do square, that all their elves for fear

  Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there.

  FAIRY

  Either I mistake your shape and making quite

  Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite

  Called Robin Goodfellow. Are not you he

  That frights the maidens of the villag‘ry,

  Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern,

  And bootless make the breathless housewife churn,

  And sometime make the drink to bear no barm—

  Mislead night wanderers, laughing at their harm?

  Those that ‘hobgoblin’ call you, and ‘sweet puck’,

  You do their work, and they shall have good luck.

  Are not you he?

  ROBIN Thou speak’st aright;

  I am that merry wanderer of the night.

  I jest to Oberon, and make him smile

  When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,